Mean So Much To Me (Ziam shit)
by fryingpansexual
Summary: I pretty much just wanted to drabble about smoking after I was done with my ScanTron today, so uh. Get comfy and have some Ziam.


Zayn exhaled, smoke spilling out of his mouth and into the already thick air. Even after all these years, it still burned deliciously as the tiny pieces of glass seeped in his sputtering lungs. He smiled, the filter fitting in the corner of his mouth like a key to a door. Smoking felt good, and it relaxed him in ways he hadn't been able to relax for the longest time. He sat down on a wicker chair and kicked his legs in front of him, the leather on his boots harshly different again the flowers Liam had planted in their front lawn; the flowers that would soon fade away and be enveloped into the coolness of fall. He let his eyes fall closed, bored. That was the thing about him; relaxation only lasted as long as interest, and it was near impossible to keep Zayn's level of interest high enough to out weigh the boredom. He thought about Liam: sleeping soundly in their bed, legs kicking up the white quilt as he stood up and stretched before welcoming the new day. He'd be mad when he rolled over and found the bed cold, but he'd expect the best. He would probably think Zayn was getting him breakfast. That was Liam; he had such high expectations for people, because he knew that that's what he would do for them. Zayn shook his head and took a drag, disappointed that he couldn't live up to the boyfriend he knew Liam deserved. Zayn knew that Liam was at good as it gets; sexy, cute, smart and loving. Liam would do anything for Zayn, but Zayn couldn't imagine taking a bullet for him. Zayn wished he could; he wished he could love Liam the way Liam loved him. He just didn't know if he could love anyone that much; hell, he didn't know if he could love anyone at all. "Hey, you," The sound of Liam's voice behind him made his stomach turn even deeper into his body. "Did you burn one of your famous omelets or…?" Liam assumed the best, again, like it wasn't obvious Zayn was tending to his addiction. "Liam," He said, the name dropping from his tongue like a cement block. Zayn blinked hard, knowing it would hurt him. "I'm trying to smoke." Liam's whole face changed. Zayn imagined Liam's face turning into a bath bomb; his eyelashes molding into specks of deep color against the pale majority of the soap, his mouth shifting into a crack on the surface, and his hair just dust brushed off of the compact. He imagined Liam's tears would melt him and make him fuzz with emptiness. He didn't want Liam to bubble away, but he didn't know how to comfort him so he just stayed tucked into his own world. "Oh," Liam replied, the hurt in his voice puppy like. "Do you want me to fix a pot of coffee for when you're finished?" Liam didn't drink coffee. Zayn waved his hand. "Liam," he pressed, looking down at a daisy. He picked it, plucking it from it's home. When it was in his hand, it felt so lovely. He didn't know where to put it, though. He threw it to the side. He could have sworn he heard Liam's breath hitch. "Just make whatever you want, yeah?" Liam nodded and turned around, but he paused with his fingers around the door knob. "Zayn?" He asked, sounding like a child. The sweat pants he was wearing pooled around his muscular legs, and his tee shirt hung just loose enough to hide the beautiful curves and dents in his back. Zayn looked up, and it took a second before he noticed Liam was facing the other way and couldn't see his head tilt. "Yes?" Liam took a deep breath and blew it out, his air a million times more pure than Zayn's would ever be. "Do you love me?" Zayn threw his cigarette on the ground and smashed it under his rubber sole. "Oh, Liam," He said, emotions leaking through his bravado like water into a Brita. He stood up from the wicker and didn't look at the cigarette smushed into the lawn. His hands found Liam's waists and he turned him around so their noses could tap. "Liam, you mean so much to me." It wasn't a lie; he appreciated Liam so much. He liked being with him, he liked living in this little house with him. He liked kissing him and he liked touching him. He didn't know if he could love, though. He didn't know a lot of things about himself. Liam nodded, lip catching between his teeth. "I love you," He stated simply. It amazed Zayn how sure Liam could be about things. How could someone always be so right? ~~~ Post sex, Zayn was normally bored. He would lay there, hand resting on his abs until his chest began to move slower. He would think about the experience, compare it to others, and then he'd crawl on top of his partner and go for round two. It didn't matter if he topped or bottomed, or if he was with a girl. The orgasmic pleasures were always enough to numb the coldness in his heart. Liam nuzzled his head into Zayn's neck and sighed, a kitten like exhale tinged with relief. Zayn hesitantly drew circles on his back, not forgetting his usual routine but caring enough to pretend he did. His chocolate eyes counted the freckles on his boyfriend's skin, as if he planned on laying there long enough to number them all. "Baby," Liam whispered, daring to call Zayn by a pet name. "Yeah?" Zayn paused his shape drawing and sighed, prepared for the next set of words. Liam kissed Zayn's collarbone and sighed into his beautiful tan skin. "Don't leave," He mumbled, desperate. Zayn shook his head, feeling the loss of a cigarette in his mouth. "Liam," he started, running a hand through his hair. "Liam, you mean so much to me." Zayn exhaled, smoke spilling out of his mouth and into the already thick air. Even after all these years, it still burned deliciously as the tiny pieces of glass seeped in his sputtering lungs. He smiled, the filter fitting in the corner of his mouth like a key to a door. Smoking felt good, and it relaxed him in ways he hadn't been able to relax for the longest time. He sat down on a wicker chair and kicked his legs in front of him, the leather on his boots harshly different again the flowers Liam had planted in their front lawn; the flowers that would soon fade away and be enveloped into the coolness of fall. He let his eyes fall closed, bored. That was the thing about him; relaxation only lasted as long as interest, and it was near impossible to keep Zayn's level of interest high enough to out weigh the boredom. He thought about Liam: sleeping soundly in their bed, legs kicking up the white quilt as he stood up and stretched before welcoming the new day. He'd be mad when he rolled over and found the bed cold, but he'd expect the best. He would probably think Zayn was getting him breakfast. That was Liam; he had such high expectations for people, because he knew that that's what he would do for them. Zayn shook his head and took a drag, disappointed that he couldn't live up to the boyfriend he knew Liam deserved. Zayn knew that Liam was at good as it gets; sexy, cute, smart and loving. Liam would do anything for Zayn, but Zayn couldn't imagine taking a bullet for him. Zayn wished he could; he wished he could love Liam the way Liam loved him. He just didn't know if he could love anyone that much; hell, he didn't know if he could love anyone at all. "Hey, you," The sound of Liam's voice behind him made his stomach turn even deeper into his body. "Did you burn one of your famous omelets or…?" Liam assumed the best, again, like it wasn't obvious Zayn was tending to his addiction. "Liam," He said, the name dropping from his tongue like a cement block. Zayn blinked hard, knowing it would hurt him. "I'm trying to smoke." Liam's whole face changed. Zayn imagined Liam's face turning into a bath bomb; his eyelashes molding into specks of deep color against the pale majority of the soap, his mouth shifting into a crack on the surface, and his hair just dust brushed off of the compact. He imagined Liam's tears would melt him and make him fuzz with emptiness. He didn't want Liam to bubble away, but he didn't know how to comfort him so he just stayed tucked into his own world. "Oh," Liam replied, the hurt in his voice puppy like. "Do you want me to fix a pot of coffee for when you're finished?" Liam didn't drink coffee. Zayn waved his hand. "Liam," he pressed, looking down at a daisy. He picked it, plucking it from it's home. When it was in his hand, it felt so lovely. He didn't know where to put it, though. He threw it to the side. He could have sworn he heard Liam's breath hitch. "Just make whatever you want, yeah?" Liam nodded and turned around, but he paused with his fingers around the door knob. "Zayn?" He asked, sounding like a child. The sweat pants he was wearing pooled around his muscular legs, and his tee shirt hung just loose enough to hide the beautiful curves and dents in his back. Zayn looked up, and it took a second before he noticed Liam was facing the other way and couldn't see his head tilt. "Yes?" Liam took a deep breath and blew it out, his air a million times more pure than Zayn's would ever be. "Do you love me?" Zayn threw his cigarette on the ground and smashed it under his rubber sole. "Oh, Liam," He said, emotions leaking through his bravado like water into a Brita. He stood up from the wicker and didn't look at the cigarette smushed into the lawn. His hands found Liam's waists and he turned him around so their noses could tap. "Liam, you mean so much to me." It wasn't a lie; he appreciated Liam so much. He liked being with him, he liked living in this little house with him. He liked kissing him and he liked touching him. He didn't know if he could love, though. He didn't know a lot of things about himself. Liam nodded, lip catching between his teeth. "I love you," He stated simply. It amazed Zayn how sure Liam could be about things. How could someone always be so right?

~~~ Post sex, Zayn was normally bored. He would lay there, hand resting on his abs until his chest began to move slower. He would think about the experience, compare it to others, and then he'd crawl on top of his partner and go for round two. It didn't matter if he topped or bottomed, or if he was with a girl. The orgasmic pleasures were always enough to numb the coldness in his heart. Liam nuzzled his head into Zayn's neck and sighed, a kitten like exhale tinged with relief. Zayn hesitantly drew circles on his back, not forgetting his usual routine but caring enough to pretend he did. His chocolate eyes counted the freckles on his boyfriend's skin, as if he planned on laying there long enough to number them all. "Baby," Liam whispered, daring to call Zayn by a pet name. "Yeah?" Zayn paused his shape drawing and sighed, prepared for the next set of words. Liam kissed Zayn's collarbone and sighed into his beautiful tan skin. "Don't leave," He mumbled, desperate. Zayn shook his head, feeling the loss of a cigarette in his mouth. "Liam," he started, running a hand through his hair. "_Liam, you mean so much to me_."

Little did he know, Liam would mean so much to him for the rest of his life.


End file.
